


The Title Always Comes Second Nature

by dreadfuldruid



Category: POKÉMON Detective Pikachu (2019)
Genre: Chinese Food, Does the pokemon universe have chinese food?, Emotional Baggage, Gen, God these two need to work it out, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Lots of Emotional Baggage, So I gave her one, Tim's mom has no name in the movie, Well they do now if they dont
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 13:37:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18895684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadfuldruid/pseuds/dreadfuldruid
Summary: Harry was never good at small talk because, really, how much small talk would a detective have to do when his main informant is a Mr. Mime and all the humans he deals with act high and mighty?





	1. A Quiet Conversation About Some Not So Quiet Topics

Harry was never good at small talk because, really, how much small talk would a detective have to do when his main informant is a Mr. Mime and all the humans he deals with act high and mighty?  It was always right to business, and when it wasn’t, he would make it business. Or he’d just wait, and awkward silence always seemed to make the best informants out of people.

 

He also had Lauretta to help him, too.

 

But then she was gone now, wasn’t she?  And here he was, sitting with his twenty-one year old son in a rundown Chinese restaurant after supposedly being turned back into a human by a genetically altered clone of a mew.  Oh, and then the rest of the city was also turned into pokemon, but not for as long as him. Oh Oh, and his son was now going to live with him? 

 

That last one was the most shocking part for him and needed the most energy to process. 

 

At least pikachu was happily snoozing away in the booth next to him avoiding all the awkwardness that came with eating dinner with your child for the first (but not really first) time in a decade.

 

“So,” he says, trying to keep his eyes at least in the general vicinity of his son.  “You said something about a girl?”

 

He thinks immediately that this wasn’t the right direction to take the conversation when Tim’s shoulders rise and his gaze darts from his fork to the window to finally Harry all in the span of a second.  Of course he would screw this up already. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

 

“Yea.  Her name’s Lucy.”

 

Harry looks and Tim’s smiling a bit, his shoulders relaxed again.  He looks happy, or maybe just not pissed off that his dad was being nosy.

 

“Lucy, huh?” Harry says, and he relaxes a bit too because now he has an opening.  He knows what route to take with this. “What kind of work does she do that leads her to an abandoned research facility?”

 

Tim laughs a bit, noodles forgotten, and seems to genuinely want to talk to his dad for the first time in a while.  “She’s a reporter. A good one, too. She told the entire story about the experiments and the R on the twelve o’clock news today.  We just missed it ‘cause we were at the station.”

 

“Right,” Harry says, nodding.  Where Tim decided to uproot his life and Harry’s along with it.  In a good way, though.

 

Tim seems to want to ask a question too, so Harry waits and picks at some of his dumplings.  Patience comes with his line of work.

 

“What about you,” Tim finally asks.  “Anyone in your life?”

 

Harry chokes on his fork.  Even for all these years of sleuthing, he was not prepared for that question.   Anyone else? Did Tim really think he was going to forget about his mother just like that?

 

But then, he realizes.  Tim had  _ no _ clue what he would and wouldn't forget about.  Hell, in his eyes, Harry forgot about him.  Why  _ wouldn’t _ he move on from his mother when he moved on from Tim.

 

“Kid,” Harry says, and pauses.  He wants to stop his thoughts from spilling out all over their dinner.  “I loved your mom so, so much. I don’t think I’ll ever find someone like here, nor do I want to.  It’s just been me. Oh, and pikachu.”

 

At his mention, the electric mouse stirs from his nap and places his nose over the edge of the table, looking for something to eat.  Tim and Harry both laugh at how cute he’s being and Harry gives him one of his dumplings to munch on. Pikachu takes it in his paws and maks a happy chirp before ducking back onto the seat to eat his bounty.

 

The mood is a little somber now, but Tim seems happy with Harry’s answer.  Both continue eating, not in an awkward silence, but not a comfortable one either.  More like a slightly amicable one that carries with it ten years of emotional baggage, but the parties involved are too tired and hungry to delve into the depths at the moment.  Harry decides to try his luck a second time.

 

“So you told me about a girl, but what about a partner?  Got any pokemon you’re close to?”

 

Now, Harry can tell that one was too much and mentally kicks himself as Tim’s shoulders fall.  His gaze is on pikachu, and it takes it a few gut-wrenching moments for Tim to finally answer Harry’s question.

 

“I mean, I did have one,” Tim says.  “Now… not so much.” 

 

It doesn’t take a world class detective to figure out what Tim means by that, but it does take a father for it to hurt so damn much.  But again, Harry understands why Tim feels that way. A decade is a long time.

 

Harry wants to tell Tim he’ll always be there for him.  That he’ll always be in his corner, but the evidence just doesn't support that.  It doesn’t support a lot of what Harry wants to say to him.

 

But maybe that can play in his favor?

 

“I know I haven’t been there for you in awhile,” Harry starts, making sure to actually look at his son no matter how much he feels like jumping from the booth and sprinting about seven blocks away.  “But I’m here now. And even if you didn’t want to be a detective, or Arceus forbid it doesn’t work out, I’ll be in your corner from here on out no matter what. You can quote me on that. An-and no matter what, I will always love you and have always loved you.  You’re the most important thing to me and I know I’ve been shitty with showing it to you but now I feel like I have a second chance. I don’t want to lose that chan-.”

 

Harry has more to ramble on about, and can already feel the waterworks coming on, but stops when he feels a hand on his.  He looks down and see’s Tim’s hand, and when he looks up again, Tim’s eyes are watery. And now his eyes are watery. And they’re both crying-not crying in the middle of a Chinese restaurant while Pikachu looks both confused at what they’re doing and annoyed that he can’t reach another dumpling from where he’s sitting.

 

And in that moment, Harry feels just a bit better about Tim moving in with him.  Yea, he still needs to make up the spare room (the pikachu ears are too childish for Tim now), and yea, they will both still need to work out some stuff.  But if the two of them can at least get through this dinner together, then they’ll move on to the next thing. And the next. Until they get to a place where they’re both maybe comfortable with the whole father-son thing.

 

Harry laughs to himself a bit.  Maybe Lauretta is still helping him with this whole small talk thing.  

 

He wouldn’t doubt it in the slightest.


	2. Would Someone Please Come Pick Up Their Lost Child?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mewtwo contemplates some stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's implied that some domestic violent could have happened in the first section of this, so if you aren't ok with that, just skip to past the dots.

A small girl sleeps peacefully in her bedroom while clutching a plush stuffed pikachu that she loves very much.  She is no older than five, and her room is pink, her favorite color. There are little stars on the ceiling that she enjoys looking at while falling asleep.  

 

She is dreaming sweet dreams of becoming a pokemon trainer.  Her partner would be Mewtwo, and they would travel the world together.  Why mewtwo? She doesn’t know. The purple pokemon, as she calls him, looks cute in the news stories.  She likes his tail. Her subconscious has taken her to Kanto to meet the mystic birds, to Sinnoh to play with the gods of space and time, and to Alola to swim in the waves with the island guardians.

 

This little girl has an active imagination.  

 

But no matter where she goes, she never fights.  She laughs, and she plays, but she never asks mewtwo to battle, and never puts him inside a pokeball.  Either she is too young to understand how training works or too naive to think she doesn’t have to.

 

Suddenly, she is stirred awake by her mother.  She is frantic, and the girl is frightened, sleep still clutching at here eyelids.  She tells her to dress quickly and then hurries out of the room to pack a travel bag and a backpack.  The girl does as she is told, albeit slowly, and once dressed she walks out to the hallway. The mother is there, backpack straps digging into her shoulders and a too heavy suitcase in hand.  She holds out her free hand for the girl. She wants her to feel safe, even if the circumstances are not.

 

The girl takes it, and the two start towards the door.  The mother is still in a hurry, confusing the girl. She wonders where her father is.  She asks her mother. The mother does not reply, but a wave of panic rushes through her when she hears a key unlock the front door.

 

The girl is startled by a loud noise.  She sees her father stumble through the door.  He is intoxicated. His thoughts are blurry and drunken.  The mother steps in front of her daughter in defence, shouting at the man.  This should not be something to drastic. The girl covers her ears, crying. The man is more angry now.

 

The mother reveals her plan.  She is leaving, with the girl, and will not be coming back.  The man is furious now. He momentarily thinks he has never been so mad before, but the alcohol drowns out his reason.  He is becoming violent.

 

Suddenly, he is knocked through a wall.  Hard. Psionic energy courses momentarily through the hallway, then dissipates.  The mother is startled, confused, and relieved all at once. She does not question the intervention, but is grateful nonetheless.  She takes her daughter’s hand and leaves the apartment. She will go to her mother’s for some time. She and the girl will be safe there.

 

…

 

Mewtwo sighs, lowering his hand back to his side.  His eyes return to their normal pigment. He finds himself intervening more and more in human affairs the longer he stays in Ryme city.  Why was he doing this to himself?

 

The short answer was that he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.  His cave back in Kanto is cramped and dark. Moldy in some places.  Maybe here could be better. However, the dumpster he is currently beside is also cramped and dark.  Mold growing over the decaying, putrid food inside. He can’t fool himself with such weak reasoning. 

 

The long answer: he felt a connection.  Or at least the start to one. The good detective and the son were two humans who had helped him, and he returned the favor.  A bond formed through the grit of hardship always seems to stick with a person. He rarely found something so profound and would sacrifice his security for that type of bearing.  But only to an extent. He hasn’t approached the detective or son since the incident. Partially out of embarrassment and partially out of shame. Truthfully, he could have left them with a better farewell, and he holds some of the blame for the incident.  

 

He feels his stomach rumble and looks around for anyone who could have heard.  Of course, no one is there. A downtown alleyway was not a place many humans frequented, and most pokemon fled when they sensed the psionic protector.  Is that what he is now? He will tell himself that he only intervened with the little girl because he had grown fond of her entertaining dream’s, but that weak reasoning also won't hold.  He can’t lie about this. He’s grown fond of humans. Some humans.

 

Their thoughts are everywhere as he sits next to his dumpster keeping warm with Will-O-Wisp.  Some thoughts are petty, others are brutal. A few are so scandalous they cause even him to blush.  But through it all, their dreams are something special. Complex lives make for complex dreams. The little girl had dreamt of him.  He had watched, impressed with how little fear she had for him. He might have even called it admiration. Of course he would intervene to keep her safe.  He’d probably do it for anyone.

 

Again, his stomach rumbles, louder than the first time.  He huffs, closes his eyes, and reaches back into the apartment above.  He knows where the food is from the family’s thoughts, and it is only a few moments before a box of crackers and some slices of cheese floats down in front of him.  He digs in fervently, casting aside the packaging as he eats. 

 

Even if he has begun to tolerate humans now, he still thinks they are utterly stupid.  They waste so much that they need to construct containers just for their garbage. They also never hold themselves accountable, placing the blame for their own actions onto others.

 

He smirks a bit between pieces of cheese.  It was a happy moment to see that wretched man in the wheelchair being taken away in a police car, hollering and screaming that he wouldn’t go down for his crimes.

 

But now, cheese wrappers discarded and cracker box thrown away, Mewtwo needs to decide what to do with is life.  He would never bow down to a trainer, he’d rather die than be so degraded, but Ryme city’s special relationship between humans and pokemon meant no pokeballs, no battling, and no confinement.  He could work with someone, decide they weren’t worth it, and fly off without a moment's hesitation. And, if he was honest with himself, his life is a lonely one. Some company wouldn't be so bad if he could stay safe.  Now he just needed to find someone to share a partnership with.

 

He feels them before he hears the two humans, both mildly intoxicated, stumble through the alleyway.  A pikachu is on one of their shoulders. 

 

“This way,” one of them, male, says.  “It’s a shortcut.”

 

“If it’s a shortcut, why didn’t we take it to get there?”  Also male.

 

Mewtwo recognizes the voices.  He can reveal himself, but he doesn’t know what to say.  Instead, he crouches tighter and waits for them to stroll by.  They walk past the dumpster without noticing him and disappear around a corner.  He feels their thoughts as they pass. Both of them unsure, but relieved and hopeful for the future.  Mewtwo doesn’t make a move to follow, but can feel their minds making twists and turns through the alleyways.  Several times they stop and turn in the opposite direction, confusion flaring up in their minds. The pikachu with them feels annoyed.  Eventually, they find their destination: an apartment about two blocks away from his dumpster.

 

Mewtwo contemplates his situation.  He could approach them now and talk, but they don’t seem in the best state of mind to respond.  Maybe waiting until morning would be the better option.  Leaning back a bit more into the building behind him, Mewtwo reignites his flame and resolves to wait.  Then, he will make his move, whatever that move might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Here's chapter two. I started chapter three a few days ago because I just felt stuck with this one, so that one shouldn't take as long. I hope this one was ok. This story should pick up a bit in the next few chapters. Thank you for reading and comment what you thought of it!


	3. How do you get your roommate to pay rent?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how Pokemon should be capitalized, so ill just capitalize it all and hope for the best. (Same for you PIKACHU. you're on thin ice right now bud.)

Ryme city was a strange place at the best of times, and dangerous at the worst.  It had a way of growing on you, though. Not much more than that. It grew like a garden for some and a tumor for tumor.

 

Tim wasn’t sure which he was growing quite yet.

 

Harry had been fine.  The apartment was fine.  Work was… not… happening?  It was strange. Tim hadn’t been expecting to jump right into the thick of detective work, but at least some paperwork would have been nice.  A little nudge from Harry to know that he actually wanted Tim to work with him.  

 

No work ever came, Tim stopped asking, and this weird routine of dancing around the subject started up.  Which, really, gave Tim more time to do his own thing. He had started jogging recently. A nice distraction from all the not work he was doing.

 

This morning, the kitchen is quiet, which is a relief to Tim.  His head is still slightly cloudy from the night before and loud noises wouldn’t help with his hangover.  He starts the coffee machine and sits down at the table waiting for it to brew. A noise down the hall lets him know that someone else is awake.  The foot falls are too soft to be a human, which leaves only one culprit.

 

Pikachu turns the corner and looks at Tim who can’t help but smile at the cute, sleepy Pokemon.  Its eyes are still half closed, like it’s fighting to stay awake, and its detective hat is crooked and covering one ear.   It sniffs the air, smelling the coffee, and makes its way over and onto the chair next to Tim.

 

“Good morning little guy,” Tim says, fixing Pikachu’s hat.  The mouse squints its eyes at him. He knows that Tim knows what he wants, and will not play this whole morning game until payment is made.

 

Tim rolls his eyes, but still smiles, and gets up to grab two cups from the pantry.  Almost all of the mugs are large, Pokemon themed ones, but Tim finds a smaller on the top shelf that he assumes belongs to the electric mouse.  He stops for a moment, setting the mugs down on the counter. The aroma of coffee dripping into the kettle fills the air, and its sweet. Tim realizes the coffee is the same brand his parents used to get.  He remembers the days when he’d wake up to this smell and plodd downstairs to the sight of his parents cooking breakfast together and laughing. The memory is nice.

 

Pikachu whines at how long Tim is taking.  

 

Tim gets the message and promptly fills up the Pokemon's mug.  He gets a happy chirp of thanks when he hands it to the little caffeine addict.  Pikachu drinks his coffee black, while Tim takes a few extra moments to add cream like a civilized coffee drinker.

 

After coffee, Tim decides to get going with his morning.  The jog isn’t too long and is actually quite pleasant. Pikachu even decides to join him, although a jog for Tim is really a sprint for the mouse Pokemon.  Tim uses it as an excuse to take frequent breaks.

 

When he arrives back at the apartment, he’s sweaty, tired, and is surprised to find that the front door is unlocked. Pikachu pushes past him and into the apartment.

 

_You’ve arrived._

 

Tim almost has a fucking heartattack.  He turns around, seeing Mewtwo floating there, in the middle of the room, looking directly at him with unblinking eyes.  Pikachu is sitting below him; smile on his face like the floating Pokemon has a treat.  

 

“Yea?  I kinda live here, you know?”  What does he say to this? How is he supposed to take walking in on Mewtwo floating in his living room?

 

Mewtwo nods in a way that only someone who doesn’t understand sarcasm can, and motions to the couch.  Tim’s couch. That Tim owns. Well, he rents, but that’s not the point here. Why is he here?

 

“Why are you here?”

 

_I needed to talk to you and the detective._

 

“My dad?”

 

Mewtwo nods.  _Can you go wake him?_

 

“Not to be rude, but can’t you?”  Tim refuses to sit on the couch.

 

 _I would, but I think my waking him up would be a bit jarring._   The psychic gestures to himself.  _You would be much more suited to the task._

 

Tim tries to find something to argue that, but draws a blank and just stomps through the apartment to the still sleeping Harry.  Pikachu follows closely at his heels. The drapes are still drawn, and while he doesn’t usually care about Harry’s late afternoon wake ups, having the embodiment of psychic power in your living room puts a little stress on the weekend routine.

 

“Harry.”  The covers are unceremoniously thrown off the bed.  “Wake up. There’s someone in the living room to see you.”  He won’t tell him who it is. He’ll take some small satisfaction in Harry’s surprise.

 

“Uh, wa….”  His eyes dart to Pikachu and then back to Tim.  And then back to Pikachu.  “Wha?  Who is it?”

 

Tim just leaves without answering and heads back to the room.  Mewtwo is still there, staring at the photos on the wall while bobbing a bit in midair.

 

_Who is this?_

 

“That’s my mother.  She’s not around anymore.”

 

 _Of course_ , the psychic doesn’t need Tim to elaborate. _I am sorry for your loss._

 

That’s a bit comforting, but Tim still feels like he’s in shock.

 

“Umm.” 

 

Tim isn’t the only one in the shock anymore.

 

Harry’s standing in the hallway now.  Boxers and a white t-shirt with a sleeping oshawott on it.  His eyes are glued to the floating ‘mon while Pikachu stands on his shoulder like nothing is amiss.  

 

_Ah, you’re awake.  It is nice to see you again, detective._

 

To his credit, Harry seems to recover a lot quicker than Tim and actually takes a seat when Mewtwo motions to it.  He doesn’t look relaxed, not in the slightest. But, twenty years of detective work has gotten him a little quicker on the uptake than most.

 

“You too.”  And like that, Harry’s back to his business casual voice.  A bit cheery and more upbeat than his usual demeanor, but still wearry.  Ready to be thrown to the wolves. “What can I do for ya?”  

 

_Explain to me again what a detective is._

 

Harry doesn’t seem to be expecting that question.  Tim raises an eyebrow. He’d **also** love to know what a detective is.  

 

“Umm,” Harry says.  “Well…”

 

Apparently Harry **also** doesn’t know what a detective is.

 

_You are a detective, yes?_

 

“Uhh, yes.  I am.”

 

_I don’t understand._

 

Harry sighs and leans back into the couch.  His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t know what the psychic is looking for here, and it unnerves him a bit.  “A detective’s usually someone who solves crimes.”

 

Tim wonders how the air could get so heavy in just a few seconds.  But then he realizes, the air was actually getting heavier as the psychic Pokemon floating in front of them was thinking.  

 

_I see.  And do you also solve the problems of Pokemon as well as human issues?_

 

Harry nods.  “Of course. That’s what Ryme city’s all about.”  The air was weighing down on them even more now.

 

It seemed like it was going to get even worse.  Air harder and harder to pull into awaiting lungs until, with a snap of psionic energy, everything lightens again.  

 

_Then it’s decided.  I’ll need a place to stay in the apartment._

 

Whiplash is one hell of a drug, and both Harry and Tim seem to be addicts at this point.

 

“You need what?”  Tim chokes out.

 

_If I’m going to work with you, I’ll need a place to stay.  Correct?_

 

Tim and Harry were both stunned into silence.  Pikachu happily chirps from his spot on the couch.  

 

“There’s, uhh not real- not room in the apartment for another.”  Harry says.

 

_I don’t tend to take up much room._

 

“Okayyyy.  But I already have a partner.”  Harry says while patting Pikachu, maybe a bit too roughly.  A bit too uncomfortable at the prospect before him.

 

But then.  Oh then. All eyes shoot to Tim, and he feels a bit too hot under his nonexistent collar.  Even Pikachu seemes to be looking at him-knowing something was about to happen-with big eyes and what was definitely a smirk.

 

“But Tim doesn’t.”

 

Damn his old man for throwing him under the bus.

 

“Um.  I’m not lo-”

 

_Good.  Then it’s decided._

 

“Whoa whoa whoa.  Nothing's been decided yet.” Tim quickly urged.

 

But the psychic Pokemon doesn’t even seem to hear him.  He only nods in approval and begins to float back towards the front door.  

 

_I have a few things to take care of before I settle in here.  I’ll be back before sundown._

 

And with that, Mewtwo opens the front door and flies away, closing it behind him.  Tim and Harry sit there for a few silent moments. Pikachu nuzzles into Harry’s side.

 

“Well,” Harry says.  “That went wel-”

 

Tim hits him in the face with a pillow.

 

…

 

Tim looks between the two poketoys in his hands and huffs.  Harry was a ways away in the next aisle looking for food for their new roommate. Tim thought it was pointless, and a little insulting, to buy the psychic some generic Pokemon chow, but Harry disagreed.  He argued that human food doesn’t usually sit well with Pokemon, no matter their size or shape.   

They had left the apartment a few minutes after Mewtwo to get supplies  Admittedly, both father and son were too nervous to tell the Pokemon he couldn’t stay with them.  They had already found bedding (lucario sized, which was probably a good fit) and some spare super potions in case their new friend returned on the opposite side of ok.

 

“Did you pick one yet?”

 

Tim jumps a bit at Harry’s voice behind him.  He turns to see the big bag of food cradled in his arms.

 

“I can’t decide,” Tim admits.  “I still don’t think toys are really necessary.”

 

Harry waves a hand at Tim before grabbing the closest toy to him, a pink mouse-like plush.  “It’ll be fine. If he doesn’t like it, Pikachu can play with it. Right buddy?”

 

Pikachu responds with a chirp and climbs up Tim’s side to sit on his shoulder.

 

“I see you found food.” Tim says.

 

“Yep,” Harry replies.  “Psychic blend.”

 

Tim rolls his eyes and gets in line to checkout.  The pokemart isn’t very busy today, and before long the duo and Pikachu were heading back down the block to their apartment.

 

“What do you think he’s doing?” Tim asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

 

Harry looks over.  “Probably checking out the labs again.  Cameras picked him up there a few days ago, and a week before that too.”

 

“You have cameras there?” Tim asks.

 

“No, but the station does.  I can check them from my laptop.”

 

Figures.  The best detective in Ryme city should get access to camera feeds at the hottest crime scene of the decade.  Still, Tim wishes he could get a piece of the action.

 

They get back to the apartment just as the sun dips below the horizon, what little there was of one in such a large city.  Pokemon and humans alike are hustling back to their homes at the end of a long, weekend day.

 

Tim places the bedding and the newly acquired toy in the corner of the living room while Harry puts the food with Pikachu’s.  Both of them were quite hungry, and Harry decides to fill the mouse Pokemon’s food bowl while he’s there, much to the delight of the aforementioned ‘mon.  

 

   All to suddenly, the front door lock turns with a click and the creaking moan of the wood easing open floats into the little kitchen.  Tim grabs the counter. He doesn’t want to turn around, hoping that, if he doesn’t look, this whole situation would go away on its own.  Instead, he decides to focus on the view through the kitchen window to the street below and think about how the people down there were doing.

 

Were they having a lovely day?  He hoped they were. His day was weird.

 

Of course, the psychic Pokemon doesn’t care that Tim isn’t looking at him.  He fills his head with thoughts just the same.

 

_Hello again detective.  The son._

 

That was weird and it would have to change really quickly.  Tim turns around to address the floating ‘mon.

 

“Tim’s fine.  You don’t have to be so formal.”

 

_Very well then.  Tim it is._

 

An awkward silence drags on for a few seconds too long.  Tim looks anywhere but at the psychic, Harry leans against the kitchen counter, Pikachu happily munches on his dinner, and Mewtwo looks back and forth between the men in front of him. 

 

Then Harry breaks the tension.

 

“We should probably make some dinner and get you settled.”

 

Mewtwo nods, spotting the bedding in the corner.

 

_Will that be where I sleep?_

 

The two men flinch, hoping it was enough for the psychic.  However, Mewtwo doesn’t seem put out by it and plops himself down on the body sized cushion.  

 

_This is… nice._

 

Harry exhales, not realizing he was holding his breath.  While Mewtwo continues to test out his new accommodations, Harry quickly begins to prepare dinner to hopefully avoid any more awkwardness.  He flashed Tim a look, and he gets the memo. Heading to the pantry, Tim started pouring some pokechow out into another bowl.

 

_That smells lovely.  What are we having?_

 

Just as quickly, Tim pours the chow back into the bag and subtly dumps the bowl onto the counter.  

 

“Uhh,” Harry says, realizing along with Tim that pokechow wasn’t going to cut it.  “Spaghetti?”

 

_Hmm.  That sounds interesting. I’ve never had it._

 

Tim and Harry exchange a glance.  This whole situation will be… interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooo... I had no idea how busy my summer would actually be, and this kinda took a backseat to all that. 
> 
> HOWEVER!
> 
> Now summer is over, and school is starting. So ill... still... be busy...
> 
> Hmm. I'll make this work, I promise. (Actually, with school starting, I'll have a more regular schedule. I should be able make writing these a regular thing.)
> 
> I also have two other fics I've been working on that Ill be posting soon, so check them out if you want! One is for Deltarune, and the other is for Avengers: Endgame.

**Author's Note:**

> So I know there's a lot of fics about Tim and Harry working out the whole father-son thing, and there will be more too, but there's a lot to cover here and a lot of free real-estate to write about.
> 
> This will be a multi-chapter work, and I plan on updating at-least once every two weeks. (The chapters won't all be just a conversation between these two, I promise)
> 
> Kudos and comment if you liked it!
> 
> (Lauretta sounded like an ok name to me)


End file.
